ling and roaring, such blowing of horns
while the hero of the afternoon was carried about on the shoulders of
his fellows, made her heart palpitate wildly. Her friends had forgotten
all about her, evidently, or perhaps they thought she had followed.

"Anne," said a voice in her ear, "don't make any disturbance. I want you
to come with me."

Anne turned around quickly and faced her father.

"Come at once!" he said. "I want to get out of this howling mob as soon
as possible. We can talk later."

He took her hand, not ungently, and presently they found themselves on
the other side of the fence surrounding the field. Anne had not meant to
go, but she knew her father was quite capable of making a scene and she
felt she couldn't endure it just then. Once outside, she thought she
might escape. Never once, however, did he release her hand until he had
her safe in one of the town hacks and they had started down the road.

When Grace and her friends finally recovered from their wild joy and
excitement there was no Anne to be found.

"Perhaps she stayed in her seat," exclaimed Grace, but the place was
quite empty.

David and Jessica looked about them uneasily.

"What chumps we were!" said the young man presently. "We never bothered
to look after her, and now probably that old parent of hers has actually
gone and kidnapped the poor child."

They searched through the crowds everywhere, but Anne was nowhere about.

At last David and Jessica confessed their suspicions to Grace.

"Oh, oh!" cried Grace, "I feel as if we were personally responsible for
her! What shall we do?"

David thought a minute.

"Is there a play at the Opera House to-night?" he asked presently.

"I believe there is," replied Grace. "Why?"

"Ten to one Anne's father is acting in it," said David, "and that is the
reason he happens to be in Oakdale to-day."

"That's a very brilliant idea if it happens to be true," said Jessica.
"But don't you think we had better see Miss Mary Pierson before we do
anything?"

"No," exclaimed Grace decisively. She was in the habit of thinking
quickly and her friends usually let her have her way; but it was
generally the best way. "It would be a pity to alarm her unnecessarily
if we can avoid it. Anne isn't expected home until late, anyway. She is
invited as are all of you to eat supper at my house. Suppose we go right
to town, while David makes some inquiries at the Opera House. Then, if
Anne's father is really acti